


Lifts

by Mercia



Series: Femslash February 2019 [19]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: ? - Freeform, BTW, F/F, Femslash February, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Nebula is oblivious, Pre-Slash, Trapped In Elevator, Val is bad at flirting, nebula and shuri are bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 13:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercia/pseuds/Mercia
Summary: (Val doesn't just offer her drink to anyone)





	Lifts

**Author's Note:**

> ngl this is kinda dumb but oh well i give up

There is music playing in the elevator, it's not bad, per se, but Nebula just doesn’t think she knows how to appreciate it. And her rooms are on the higher levels, by her own request, so it takes a while. 

It's after the snap and Thanos and the final victory after months of mourning that Nebula decides to stay on Earth. At least for a little while longer. Gamora offers her a place on the ship once more, but Nebula says no because… She's tired. And she misses solid ground. And even though she and her Guardians have some sort of weird loyalty with Nebula, she doesn't think she'd last a week on a ship with them. They're much too loud, and she likes her space now. 

And there's nothing for her up there other than them, any more than on here on Terra.

She's living in Wakanda now, in the palace, mostly because she thinks their Princess enjoys talking to an  _ alien _ , which is remarkable here apparently(though, not as much as before) and sometimes the warriors —  _ Dora Milaje _ — will spar with her. 

The doors open before her floor and someone else steps in.

It’s the Valkyrie.

She nods in silent greeting and the woman returns it with a slightly sarcastic smile, all teeth. It’s nothing personal though, from what Nebula has observed, it’s pretty typical. 

The elevator is circular, the walls made of bright white hexagon tiles, pristine and sleek, their power woven in. The track playing in the background is slow with a heavy beat, trodden down, and Nebula liked the last song. 

And then she feels the thing lurch, for a second, and stop.

Oh, she was never going to let the princess live this one down. 

The Valkyrie sighs, and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She’s wearing her traditional armour, for whatever reason. There really is no need here — it’s no Asgard and she’s heard the new king is much more relaxed with those sorts of trivialities — but it does make her look quite impressive. 

It’s after a few minutes and they’re still not moving that Nebula lets out a sigh, and drops down to sit on the ground, legs crossed. Her left prosthetic has been feeling achy if she stands still on it for too long, recently, and she needs to get it checked. The Valkyrie turns, briefly, to give her a slightly critical gaze before she huffs and does the same. She pulls a silver flask from her pocket before she pauses and meets Nebula’s eyes with her own, dark brown and warm.

“You want some,” she says, holding the thing out. “His majesty — not T’Challa — Thor, said I shouldn’t drink so much.”

Nebula doesn’t say anything, even though she knows Gamora would probably tell her she’s being rude (because apparently they can say things like that to each other now), and looks at it suspiciously.

“It’s good, I swear,” insists the Valkyrie, taking a sip of it in front of her and wiping her mouth. “I don’t want the rest of it to go to waste.”

“Drink it then,” Nebula replies, deadpan. 

“King’s orders,” she says, as though she didn’t just take a swig just now. “And he’s probably right, somehow.”

“Drink it later.”

Val looks at her consideringly for a moment, before waving the idea away with a slight gesture. “Nah,” she says.

So, because Nebula is supposed to be nice and sociable — “turning over a new leaf” is how Quill puts it, or “actually soft and squishy on the inside” is what the Princess says — she accepts the drink and takes a small sip. 

It’s not as strong as she expected it to be, but it’s good, the Asgardian didn’t lie about that, running smoothly down her throat, a slight bitter aftertaste but a subtle, mellow sweetness.

“See,” says the Valkyrie, “Told you it was good.”

Nebula nods, and takes another sip before she holds out her hand like she’s seen some of the Terran’s do. And Asgardians are close to their  _ midgardians _ in terms of customs, so the action should be comprehensible. “Nebula,” she introduces herself, keeping her voice neutral. 

And the Valkyrie raises her eyebrows at that, intrigued. No doubt she’s heard the tales about Thanos’ unmade daughter. Nebula almost withdraws her hand, annoyed at herself, but the woman flashes her a quick grin and takes it. 

“They call me Valkyrie,” she says, even though Nebula already knows. “There aren’t anymore left, but they call me it anyway.” And she pauses thoughtfully for a second. “But it’s Brunhilde.”

There’s a soft hiss, and then a click, and they’re moving down again, and then the doors open and  _ Brunhilde  _ is getting up and dusting herself off. Nebula is still holding the flask, though, and she goes to hand it back but Brunhilde shakes her head.

“Keep it,” she says, and  _ winks _ . 

The doors close, and Nebula’s moving up again.

**Author's Note:**

> okay
> 
> i will catch up on writing tomorrow. 
> 
> Also, what are ppl's thoughts on Nebula/Natasha? I'm curious.


End file.
